Amelia was her next choice for someone to talk to and Molly was in luck, her friend answered at the first ring. To forestall recriminations for having left the hotel without warning, she jumped straight in. ‘Amelia, I’m in trouble. Something happened at the weekend. I need to talk to you.’

A long sigh came down the line accompanied by the sound of well-manicured nails impatiently tapping. ‘You didn’t mention anything while you were there.’

Molly gripped the phone, preparing for disappointment, relieved instead to hear a quiet okay.

‘Do you want to come here?’ Amelia asked.

‘Yes, I’ll be there in an hour.’

Having something to focus on made her mind more settled, clearer. Looking down at her jeans and shirt, she decided it was a perfect uniform for the day. She ran upstairs and slipped on some loafers, grabbed a jacket, then went back to the study. Freya and Remi were always mislaying their mobiles and had acquired a few pay-as-you go phones over the years. A quick search found one, its charger wound around it. Plugging it in, she checked that it worked and was pleased to see there was ten pounds credit on it. She quickly sent Jack a text telling him she’d be using it for a while without saying why. There was no point in adding a sorry, she guessed she’d be saying that a lot over the next few days and weeks.

Unplugging it again, she put the charger and phone into her pocket and headed off.

16

Molly caught the Circle Line to Notting Hill Gate and walked the five minutes from there to Pembridge Square Gardens. She loved her home but always suffered a little envy when she visited Amelia’s beautiful apartment. No expense had been spared on renovations and interior design, the rooms were spacious and high-ceilinged, and the outlook over Pembroke Square was perfect.

Amelia opened the door in cream silk pyjamas, waving Molly in with a less-than-welcoming expression. ‘This isn’t really convenient, you know, darling.’

‘The police called this morning,’ Molly said without preliminaries. ‘They think I might be involved in a murder.’

Amelia laughed uncertainly, then stopped and reached two hands to grab Molly’s shoulders to hold her still. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ Molly said. ‘I’d better tell you the whole story.’

Dropping her hands, Amelia shook her head. ‘Wait, I need coffee first. Something tells me I’m going to need caffeine for this conversation.’

Once they were sitting with mugs in front of them, Molly told her story again. It wasn’t getting any easier to tell and she stuttered over the words.